Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(16)

Little did he know he would walk into their first meeting and find Polly, a temptress with brains to complete the gorgeous package. Rosy of lip and porcelain of cheek. Wide brown eyes and a backside that she appeared to be presenting, no matter her position. Sitting, leaning, bending. An arse that begged to be dealt with. Rather surprisingly, however, since last night, he’d made the switch from dealing with Polly to…Polly dealing with him.

He knew his brilliant mind well enough to know the score. Getting between pretty Polly’s legs had been his objective since day one, and last night, she’d handed him the necessary means to get there. Control. Really, it should have occurred to him before now that Polly wasn’t a submissive woman. What surprised him was his response to her preferences. He…liked the idea when it came to her. Quite a lot.

Austin realized he’d been standing poised in his entryway for several long minutes and cursed. After locking all five dead bolts, he unbuttoned his black overcoat, shrugged it off, and hung it on the back of the door. Despite his exhaustion, thoughts of a demanding Polly dressed in an abbreviated Snow White costume had roused his cock, and it needed tending. On his way to the bathroom, Austin unzipped his jeans, unable to wait for that first, blessed stroke.

“God, yes,” Austin grated, closing his eyes to welcome his newest recurring fantasy. One that had plagued him since last night. Polly standing above where he knelt, her fingers snagged in his hair.

“Would you like to touch me, Austin?”

“Yes.” Even in his own fantasy, he sounded winded. Starved. “Yes, I want to touch every goddamn inch.”

“Good.” She rewarded him with a simple brush of her thumb across his forehead, but somehow her approval made his cock thicken. More. He had to have more. “Tell me where you’d like to touch.”

He leaned closer, let his breath drift over her silky white panties. She was bare underneath, he could tell thanks to the tight, sheer material guarding her *. Her sweet, smooth *. “Between your legs.”

Her grip tightened in his hair until he winced. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please. I need to satisfy you.”

Austin groaned as he walked into the dark bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light. A few more jerks of his cock and he’d be able to think, figure out what the hell to do about real-life Polly and the clusterf*ck he’d created last night. Ah God, she was letting him lick her delicious flesh now, yanking his head away periodically to torture him, forcing him to look and not taste—

The smell of lemonade had Austin’s hand pausing in its movements. His eyes flew open to find Polly perched on his bathroom sink, her fingers wrapped around a red Beretta. “For the love of God, control yourself, Shaw.”

When presented with an intruder holding a gun, he didn’t stop to ask questions. Nor did he care about the identity of said weapon wielder. He’d never classified Polly as a threat before, but having experienced the sting of betrayal in the past, his nature had him lunging for the gun. Her gasp told him that response was unexpected, but she recovered quickly, fighting him for a grip.

“Drop the gun.” He issued the order through clenched teeth. “I find the idea of hurting you distasteful.”

She twisted her body, an attempt to regain control of the Beretta. “I can’t believe you don’t have the decency to put your dick away before charging at me.”

Call him sick, call him whatever you liked, he loved Polly talking about his dick in any capacity. Look at it. Want it. “I’m the furthest thing from decent.”

“No shit.” They were breathing heavily, inches from each other’s mouths. And hell if the swollen bastard between his thighs didn’t react favorably to having her close, even though she might have come there to murder him in cold blood. Pity, his cock didn’t deal in semantics.

“One last chance, Banks. Drop the gun or I’ll take it away from you.”

She pretended to think about it. “See, I’m not really in the mood to cry uncle.”

“Are you in the mood to cry Austin? Now that could be interesting.” She attempted to jerk the Beretta away again, giving him no choice but to dig his thumb into the pressure point on her wrist, releasing her grip automatically. “There now.” Keeping his attention trained on Polly, he placed the gun out of her reach on an overhead shelf. “That wasn’t so difficult, was—”

Her freed fist drilled him in the stomach. A grunt burst past his lips, but masculine pride kept him standing upright. Well, masculine pride and another fist flying in his direction, this time at his head. He shot a hand out to intercept the punch, using the grip to drag Polly off the sink and twist her arm behind her back.

“Aiming for this moneymaker face, sweet?” He clucked his tongue. “Now that’s just cruel.”

“Let me go,” she demanded, her voice vibrating with anger. Although he detected more embarrassment than anything else. He’d never seen her anything but confident. Ready for a challenge. It didn’t sit well that he’d scored her pride, so he let go of her arm. He had questions that needed answering, though, so as soon as he refastened his pants—not an easy feat when his cock still stood at attention—Austin pressed her body back against the sink, blocking both avenues of escape with his arms.

“How did you find my address? I’ve made it impossible.”